


Can No Longer Weep

by Fangirlingmanaged



Series: The Note [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Poetry, Steve Feels, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:06:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlingmanaged/pseuds/Fangirlingmanaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve talks to Tony about his note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can No Longer Weep

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel?  
> Sequel!

Tony knows he should have probably talked about this with Steve before, and he _was_. He was going to do the responsible adult thing, and he was going to sit his boyfriend of one year and three months down and explain everything. They had touched on Howard’s bad parenting a couple times, and Steve seemed to get it, but there was a part of him that could only see the Howard he had known. Tony understands that, he doesn’t begrudge him that relationship, but it still had made him hesitant to approach Steve with just how messed up he was because of his father.

Now, though, he knows he should have had this talk with his lover a lot sooner. At least then he would have chosen the time and the place, he would have been in control, and he would have known how to handle the fallout of all those repressed… _feelings_. God, even the word made him shudder. It’s his own damned fault for taking so long, though.

*************

Tony Stark was not having a good day, and it was only increased in its not-goodness by the lack of a super soldier body next to his own as he woke up. Steve had been gone for a week now and he still had one more to go, despite all the times Tony had called fury and told him that Steve was needed back at the Tower STAT. Apparently; his boyfriend missing him wasn’t enough priority for the one-eyed man. Not even the threats of not repairing his precious hellicarriers had made the other man back down. It didn’t help Tony’s mood that he was the only one in the tower at the moment, Nat and Clint were with the Captain in whatever stealth mission they were doing ( _No, Tony, your hot-rod-red and shining-gold metal, flying suit is not stealthy_ ) Thor had some important business to attend in Asgard, and Bruce had fucked off to India or some shit. Again. Tony will seriously have to have a talk with the other man about not leaving him alone to do science-y things because, well, Tony tended to get angsty when he was deprived of human contact for too long.

He was getting out of bed at the respectable hour of ten-forty-three when he heard the daunting sound of heels click-clacking on his tile floor. As the responsible and mature adult that he was he burrowed further under the covers and curled himself up under a ball. Implementing the technique that all children, he means people, know is truly infallible, he held his breath and made himself look as small as possible. The sound stopped at his doorway, then a sigh was heard, and then the sound continued on to the vicinity of their closet. He suppressed a shudder; he knew what closet visiting meant now that Steve was no longer in it (he-he, he’s hilarious. He knows.)

“Tony,” a stern, female voice says once the hells have come to a stop next to his bed. He pretends he’s not there, though by now maybe she is not fooled anymore. “You need to get up. you have a meeting.”

“No meeting,” he groans and closes his eyes tighter.

“Tony Stark, get up and get dressed. You are not missing this meeting.”

“But Pep, I have things to do, important science-y stuff,” he mumbles. She is not fooled, one of the many, many reasons why she’s his PA and the CEO of his company.

“Tony,” and then he hears shuffling and then the tapping of a foot on his floor. His eyes snap open at once, he’s had one too many of those phone calls already.

“I’m up! I’m up! Don’t you dare call him, you know how he gets! There, I’m being a responsible, grown ass man!” He all but screeches as he storms towards the bathroom to take a quick shower; he doesn’t miss her satisfied smirk as she sits on his bed to wait. Damn PAs who make secret pacts with perfect super soldiers.

*************

Five hours later, Tony is about to claw his eyes out. He’s been forced to read paper work, meet with certain office… people, and almost blew up the R&D department out of boredom and exasperation because it seems that Stark Industries was hiring complete, and utter morons nowadays. He’s so annoyed at tired by the time his lunch period arrives that he doesn’t even light up at the sight of the burger from one of his favorite joints down the street. His job sucks sometimes.

He’s forced into a board meeting until six, and then another boring teleconference with even bigger idiots until Pepper allows him to go at eight. Happy gives him a sympathetic look as he climbs in next to him and slumps into his seat. His friend blasts AC/DC and Tony gives him a smile as he closes his eyes, he wants to wipe the whole day out of his damned mind. Happy drops him off at the tower fifteen minutes later, with a request that he rest instead of wondering down to the lab. Tony is way too exhausted to even think about working more, so he easily agrees. He slumps down on his way up to the penthouse, the whole idiocy of his company members plus the lack of his lover weight down on him like the whole armor without support and he hunches his shoulders.

As soon as he arrives at their apartment, however, all the pain disappears because as soon as the elevator doors open he can see a pair of old-man trainers resting in the cheesy welcoming mat Steve insisted they get. The sight alone is enough to get him to chuckle; all the weariness he had been feeling is lifted off his shoulders. He can smell oregano and other spices from the kitchen, so he makes his way over there. He is presented with the delicious sight of his boyfriend, wearing nothing but low-riding sweatpants and a silly “Tin-Man has a Heart” apron that he had custom made for Tony as a joke the first Valentine’s Day they spent together. It puts a huge, dopey smile on Tony’s face but he honestly doesn’t give a shit.

Tony’s about to say hello when Steve turns around with the wooden spoon to his lips, catches  him, and gives him a smile that makes the rhythm of the reactor stutter. Seriously, he has no idea what he _ever_ did right to deserve this but he is not going to botch it up any time soon. Steve makes his way over to him, puts the spoon on the counter on his way over, and then cradles his face in his hands like he’s made of crystal. He brings their lips together, and it’s so obscenely sweet that Tony can feel his cheeks flaring up.

“Wow,” is the only thing that he can think of saying. It’s not the _wrong_ thing though, because Steve gives him another smile and then presses their lips together again.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” is the greeting when they separate. For some reason, Tony’s eyes tear up at that and he has to hide his face in the super soldier’s chest. Steve chuckles, but brings him closer while he gets under control. They stay like that for a while, until Steve decides he needs to keep cooking and Tony needs a shower. So he’s sent on his way.

The last thing that he sees before leaving the room is his dork of a boyfriend at the stove, humming under his breath. It’s enough to put the dopey smile back on his face.

*******

“Tony, I… I need to talk to you about something,” Steve says as they finish their late dinner. Tony is too high on good company and delicious food to put as much stock into that phrase as he probably should. So he just smiles and nods at his boyfriend. The other doesn’t really look angry about anything, but there is definitely concern there and it worries Tony a little. Not enough to bolt, though, which in and of itself speaks of how much Steve has changed him.

“Sure, babe, what’s up?” He leans forward on his chair and rests his elbow on the table in front of him. He places his chin on his fist, and he knows he looks all dopey-eyed-in-love, but he doesn’t care.

“I—“Steve seems unable to continue and instead looks down at the table. He seems to deliberate for a moment and then he’s reaching into the pocket of his sweat pants. He pulls a folded piece of paper out and places it in front of Tony.

He understands what the others mean when they say that he might be a genius but he’s an idiot immediately because the first thing he thinks about is _We’re not even married and he’s already giving me divorce papers_ before he grabs for it. He would never admit it but his hands are shaking as he unfolds the piece of paper. He scans it for a little, and doesn’t recognize it, but thinks that maybe Steve is trying to do some romantic _I love you_ kind of thing with poetry. He’s sappy that way. But then he looks at Steve and his face has that stubborn look about it, and that scares him.

“I—should I know what this is?” he asks, because he definitely has no idea what it is. He has a vague feeling that he should recognize it, but he can’t grasp what it is.

“You don’t recognize it?” Steve says incredulously, and then everything crashes on him. he knows that poem, he _knows_ it; he had it memorized when he was seventeen. He had it memorized because…

“You know,” it comes out breathless, like he has been punched in the stomach. It hurts, it _kills_ him that Steve knows about how weak he was back then, how much power he had given Howard. He had allowed himself to consider giving Howard what he wanted, the rest of his life without the disappointment that was Tony, and that was _so. Damn. Weak._ He can feel himself having an anxiety attack, he hasn’t had one of those since the Avengers moved into the tower, but he can feel it.

He must black out for a minute, or ten, because the next thing he knows is that he’s sitting with his knees up to his chest in the couch and there are two bright pools of blue looking at him worriedly. As his mind clears he realizes that, nope, that’s just Steve. He’s crouched in front of him, hands on Tony’s knees, and his fingers are running soothing circles there. He’s speaking, Tony realizes, and he forces himself to focus on the voice. That voice has pulled him out of many a night terror, and he knows it’ll give him the strength to get through this.

“You’re okay, baby, I’m right here. Tony, sweetheart, you have to breathe for me. C’mon, love, you can do it. You gotta breathe for me, shell head, you’re worrying me. You’re fine, it’s over, and you’re okay. I’m right here, can you see me? I’m not going anywhere,” his voice is soft, and calm and it helps him. It has _always_ helped him so he focuses on that.  

“Steve,” he manages to get out, and the soldier smiles at him brilliantly. He takes a shuddering breath and then lowers his legs. He’s feeling better, but he has no intention of getting up any time soon. Steve sighs a quiet sigh of relief, and then smiles at him again. “I suppose you want to talk about it,” Tony says without inflection. He supposes he should be mad, or bitter, or even embarrassed, but as he looks at Steve’s serene face he decides he’s none of those things. If anything he’s glad, he _wants_ to tell Steve about what happened. So he pulls him up to sit beside him.

“I’ll tell you about Howard, the whole thing, and about why I did what I did,” he looks up at Steve and finds him with a small smile and an encouraging look on his face; he has both arms around him and pulls him in just a little closer. “You have to promise me that you won’t bolt, you’ll be here and hold me ‘cause… fuck, Steve, I haven’t told anyone about this.”

“As long as you let me, shell head,” Steve murmurs into his hear. If he had used any type of pet name, it would have been sappy, but their usual nickname makes everything better. He burrows closer into Steve and places his larger hand on top of the reactor.

“Let me tell you my story,” he says quietly and takes a deep breath. “Let me tell you everything.”

**************

It’s three-twenty seven in the morning and Tony still can’t sleep. The rest of that conversation was intensely emotional, he doesn’t remember crying so much since… well since Jarvis died, to be honest. Steve, though, Steve had proven once again that he was his rock. He had kept his composure, only soothing him with words of love and gentle touches afterwards. He wouldn’t have been able to get the story out otherwise. As he lays there with Steve in his arms, the blonde’s head on his shoulder and a gigantic hand over the reactor again, he thinks about how he had been so empty before. He remembers another poem, another thing he had made himself remember for as long as his loneliness and pain lasted, and wonders how it is not true anymore

_We are the desperate_

_Who do not care,_

_The hungry_

_Who have nowhere_

_To eat_

_No place to sleep,_

_The tearless_

_Who cannot_

_weep._

 

He is no longer desperate for company, or hungry for affection, he has his bed with a wonderful, loving man at his side and there is no more reason to weep. He’s grateful for that poetry, no matter how much he used to mock it, it was always there when he needed comfort but he no longer requires it now. He has Steve now.

And that’s more than enough. Steve is everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I'm a Supernatural fan? That's all Cas right there, dawg :D


End file.
